Introducing

Introducing our newest addition: Isaac David. He is our heaviest so far at 7lb 14oz but our shortest singleton at only 20 inches. I came home last night on Isaac's birthday after an evening discharge. (I wanted out of there! This was a good decision as I slept much better at home than I would have in the hospital.) I will leave the labour story for another post; however, it was both the best of labours and the worst of labours. Here he is around 20 minutes after his birth. The lovely lady to my right is our beloved family physician who was present for delivery along with her youngest daughter who waited in the hall. He is fair and has his own unique look. I imagine he will look like the other boys before long.

Absolutely adorable. Note the open baby name book in the background. We arrived at the hospital with a name other than Isaac (although Isaac had long been my choice) and Dave spent much time reading names and their accompanying meaning. In the end, Isaac David was an easy God-given choice especially as Dave's 34th birthday is tomorrow and Isaac means laughter and joy - which he has been all along.

First family portrait - I was still sleeping. Surprisingly, Joseph does not seem jealous at all. Rather, he wants to hold Isaac constantly and keeps commenting on how cute his little brother is.

The happy siblings waiting for their oldest brother. Dave said he will be soon applying for Israeli citizenship as our name choices should qualify us for permanent residency.

The fabulous five.

Thank you for all the prayers and support. After a completely sleepless Sunday night I was feeling terribly frustrated, scared of the approaching pain and very teary. However, there was a notable change in my emotions and visible strengthening that I imagine coincided with prayer support. Labour swung into full gear just as we neared the hour of Mercy (3pm) and that was the word that stayed in my mind and prayers as we approached his birth. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Baby Has Arrived

Baby Afelskie finally showed up today at 3:32 pm, after a false start last evening. Elena and Dave went to the hospital last night around 8 pm; because Elena delivers quickly, they set off at the first sign of labour.

Unfortunately, the labour slowed down and almost stopped, and didn't get going until late this morning.

The baby boy is healthy, mom is well, baby Afelskie is 7 lbs, 14 oz., he is long like his brothers, and the name is not revealed yet. Dave was about to tell me over the phone, but I thought he should tell the other children in person tonight when he comes home.

Thank God for a good birth, a healthy baby, and grateful parents.
Julie (Elena's mom)

Privacy Issues

(I will keep this post at the top of the page for the next week or so and will continue to publish new material below it. I will wait one to two weeks before I change the privacy settings.)
I have been pondering the nature of privacy and the blog for a while now and have finally decided to act on my thoughts. Dave and I have spoken and decided that we are going to make this blog a private affair. So, if you are a reader, follower, lurker or enjoyer of Swimming Upstream, please, let me know and I will put you on my permission-to-read list. Please, if you have been lurking and feel a little shy about emailing me and letting me know that you would like to keep reading, don't hesitate to contact me and let me know that you would like to stay in blog-touch. My reasons for privacy are myriad: Dave as a teacher, the kids right to a private childhood but, and most of all, the ability to create and maintain a space where I can be honest and not worry that I am going to offend certain readers or let others know a little bit too much about things that I would rather keep to myself. Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries. Either leave your contact info (email address) in the comments or email me at elenaculshaw@yahoo.com. Don't be shy. Read on for new material.

New T-Shirt Design

If this pregnancy lasts much longer, I'm going to get a t-shirt made that says, Comments can be left in my inbox. I'm sure all you pregnant moms know what I'm talking about. And you dads, who have wives who have been pregnant, have surely heard. Here are a few that I have received now that I have hit the end.
Some, I admit to loving, like:
1. And the woman is still with child.

While others I could really do without:
2. You'd think that after this many they would just drop out.

One was the just the other morning when I passed a man on my morning walk. I think I have passed him everyday for the past nine months:
3. That baby's going to be a walker!

Many comments come from my neighbour and his wife two doors down who I literally try to sneak past. Just the other day:
4. You're still here! The hospital is that way.

5. She's slowing down!

And, when I was first pregnant:
6. Must have been a power outage this winter.

However, my absolute personal favourite comes from the mother of a good friend (who has me drinking raspberry leaf tea and bouncing on an exercise ball in an effort to induce labour). I met her mother a few weeks ago at the beach and she remarked in reference to the burgeoning life within:
7. You're the most beautiful person on this beach.
Music to my ears.

Day Four Update

What does one do when being four days overdue coincides with a brief return of the dog days of summer? Take everyone to the beach for the afternoon. This little dinghy was one of our greatest dollar store investments - around $22 and seemingly indestructible. My mother, the kids and I drove to the beach and Dave biked there in order to get in a good workout. We anticipated his arrival about 45 minutes after our own. However, after a good hour at the beach there was still no sign of a sweaty biker and I began to wonder what might have happened. He eventually showed up showered and in street clothes. Turns out he had suffered his very first flat tire about 8 km from home and had had to abandon the bike in a ditch, run home, shower and drive to the beach. Poor guy; but he did get some good cardio. Of course, being four days overdue also means that all junk food is suddenly calorie-less and worthy of consumption. I should have biked with Dave...

Jacob taking his turn in the 'boat'.

Hannah sitting on her sandcastle.

And then I gave in to the call of 'the boat'. Thank you to the forces of buoyancy - Jacob was able to pull his mother and littlest brother in the water for a good 15 minutes. I enjoyed a good quarter hour of weightlessness. I would have been happy to stay in that water for the entirety of a labour and delivery. (Please ignore the bubbly shorts!)

So, we are all tuckered out. Ben is asleep in the Lazy Boy and I could do the same myself. We'll see what the next 24 hours hold.

3 days

That baby widget is wrong, very wrong. I am currently three days overdue and trying not to become frustrated. My father leaves tomorrow bright and early and unless something happens pronto the chances that he will meet his newest grandson have become quite slim. Living far from one's family is difficult. Enough said.

Adventures with Grandma and Granpa

My mom and Hannah posing for Jacob. My dad (a little grizzly from field work) and his youngest (so far) grandson.

Watching Peter Sellers in the Pink Panther series.

Joseph biding his time before running through the sprinkler.

Benjamin unaware that the sprinkler is coming his way.

Hannah (ever the worker) on yard clean-up.

My mother took all four on a long walk through town. The two youngest became quite tired and the oldest two volunteered as beasts of burden.

They really are quite strong and took turns carrying Ben (slightly heavier) and Joe (slightly lighter).

Jacob.

The last days of the fabulous four.

No news

I really thought that I would have something of consequence to report this morning; but, alas, nothing. I went to bed feeling like this baby's birth was imminent but the only pain I woke up to was sciatic. Ouch. Double ouch. Only getting worse.

My Mom is Here

My mom is here which means that the baby has full permission to come. I don't think he quite understands this concept. I hope he grasps the fact that her time with us is limited and that, if he wants to fully enjoy his grandma, he needs to come soon. Please.
I had a doctor's appointment this afternoon and all is well. Except that my GP told me that my uterus still feels like it has two more weeks of room in it. Nevertheless, I do have a very stretchy uterus (due to the housing of twins 7 years ago) and our babies don't tend to get too big (nothing over 7lb 7oz so far). She said that I was slightly dilated but that said dilation is probably left over from my last pregnancy! However, she did stretch me a little which just might start something up. I have been having very mild contractions since her exam but I don't know if I'm just imagining things.
Also, my doctor leaves for a mini vacation on Thursday at noon and returns on Sunday afternoon. So, I am hoping to deliver naturally before Thursday at noon... If I haven't delivered by next Tuesday, I have an appointment to meet her at the OB department first thing Tuesday morning. Let's all pray that this little gaffer is born well before any method of induction becomes necessary. I have travelled the induction route before (with the twins) and I would really prefer not to get on that train again. To carry that metaphor a little further: let's all pray for the speedy natural train to show up soon. Choo, choo.

Still waiting

Just thought you might be interested to know that we are still waiting. I told my mother (who is enroute) that, if I have enough time, I will post a "heading to the hospital" post in the hopes of garnering prayer support ... when the time comes. I am having all sorts of pains and twinges but, if Dave's reaction is any indication of how imminent labour is, then we're really still waiting.
Example:
Dave: "Are you OK?"
Elena: "Yes, my hip just feels likes it's about to pop out."
Dave: "At least you have two."
Elena: "I hadn't looked at it that way before."

While I'm still here I might as well post some funny things that I overheard recently.
1. Benjamin popped out of his room yesterday morning in order to notify me of the following:
"Mom!"
"Yes?"
"I don't want to be a person; so, I'm not one. OK?"
I find it best not to argue with such assertions.

2. I was trying to impress upon Jacob the importance of doing more than just the minimum when it comes to housework and undesirable tasks. I decided to start from a religious angle.
"You know, Jacob, if you want to be a Saint you need to do more than just your share."
"What do you mean, Mom?"
"Well, the Saints never just stopped halfway. They tried to do more than 100%. So, when I ask you to clean out under your bed, you shouldn't just stop at 50 % and leave the rest for Ben."
He puzzled over this for a few seconds and quickly reasoned, "I'm not so sure about being a Saint. I think I'll stop at Venerable or Blessed."
There really was nothing left to be said.

At Last

Dave has borrowed his parents' camera ... and I have proof that the children still exist. Granted, they are probably a little more freckled than when you last saw them. They're also taller and they all need a haircut. But, alas, I am a tired momma and the clippers are a little low on the priority list. Jacob's favourite position: curled in the Lazy Boy, book in hand.

Joseph unearthed his too-small winter pajamas and insisted on wearing them to supper.

Ben unearthed his camera smile and insisted on wearing it for every picture. He is wearing his Poonie-the-Pooh hat. He is rarely seen without a cap; he wears it to the door of the church and takes it to bed at night. Country boy. (Note the farm implements in the toy box.)

Benjo and Jo-Jo at their best.

God's gift to mothers, fathers and brothers. She would like to point out that she has finally lost one of her two top teeth and the other one is soon to follow. Also, the bangs and hair are on the grow-out.

And, finally, the oft-mentioned deck. Beautiful, isn't it? Thank you to my incredible husband and Matymko Construction (you know who you are).

It's my feast day today

I promised you some final prego pics. Here they are: 39 weeks, 1 day.

Sadly the camera blues are still hanging around this house. The longed-for battery arrived and turned out not to be the source of our camera's illness. I think that its country of origin has a monopoly on its ailments. I am tempted to dig out the 35mm in an effort to record any of this summer's events. Either that or Dave will finagle his parents out of their never-used camera, or I will bring the laptop with me to all future outings and ask people to pose in front of my screen. I think that the latter option might be both socially awkward and slightly grainy in its results. Despite our Kodak woes, I promise that I will post at least one more baby in-utero shot before baby makes his debut.

Said debut is coming ever nearer and I am both excited and a little sad. Although the end of a pregnancy is often physically exhausting and emotionally draining I always find myself not wanting it to end. I confess to enjoying the excitement of the wait and I tend to feel a little anti-climactic once the baby is born. I think that this last emotion is because once the little one leaves my womb he does just that: he leaves and keeps on leaving. It's sort of inevitable. With each passing day my children grow older, more mature and one step closer to not being my little children. And, I find that bitter sweet. I have always loved young children and felt most at home with the under-ten set. Consequently, the fleeting nature of childhood often leaves me reeling. All the more reason to be thankful that I can be with them day in and day out while they are so young and dependent.

On a more practical note, my mother should be here within a week. (The house breathes a collective sigh of relief; and Dave secretly smiles as he knows that his red-wine-at-every-supper partner is soon to arrive.) I am really hoping that I am still pregnant when she arrives so that I can have my own mother here for at least one labour and delivery. We'll see. My father is still canoeing through the wilds of Ontario so he should be around for the little one's arrival as well (hopefully he showers first:)).

Speaking of arrival, I have no progress whatsoever to report. However, the doors are on the new bedroom (although the beds and crib are in the wrong locations), the house is still clean, there are groceries in the fridge (not for long), and we lie in wait. I am still quite nauseous and I expended a good amount of prayer energy last night storming heaven with the details of my desired labour and delivery: Please, no nausea or throwing up!

I am also sitting extra long with little Joseph who will soon lose his baby status. How willingly, I am unsure.

Swimming lessons are finished for the summer and the nights are growing longer as the mornings grow cooler. How quickly the summer passes. We will treasure what remains even if we have to pencil-sketch our last outings to the beach.

Any Day Now

As I write this post three little girls are on the couch behind me looking at family photo albums and giggling. Dave took the three boys to the farm so that I could have a morning with Hannah all by herself before the baby arrives. Joseph has already had his turn and I need to fit in a morning with Benjamin and one with Jacob before the arrival of the womb dweller.

But back to today. By 2:30 pm the boys had still not arrived home so Hannah and I drove over to the church to watch the end of her kindergarten teacher's wedding. I think that this was the wedding of the summer for our little town. Both bride and groom come from large extended families so the guest list was extensive. Also, the groom was raised in a family that breeds draught horses for a living; consequently, the bridal party left the church in grand style: horse and carriage complete with a bilingual Just Married sign - yup, you guessed it, English and Polish. The whole thing felt a bit royal as many little just-out-of-kindergarten girls and their parents had gathered to watch and take pictures. I stood with a friend and fellow blogger who had brought his little girls to take in the sights.

It is these two girls who are now giggling behind me on the couch. How different from boys they are: the bowl of popcorn is still partly full, the house hasn't been ripped to pieces and they are content to sit and look at pictures rather than scale 20 foot trees in an attempt to push the boundaries of testosterone.

How grateful I am that they are not tearing the house apart as it was only yesterday that I really put it together. I had a hmmm-maybe-this-is-labour moment yesterday at around 9am that sent me into a frenzy of housecleaning. I managed to clean three washrooms, one kitchen floor, scour the floor under the stove and fridge, vacuum all carpets, do five loads of laundry, change all beds, empty and clean the fridge and, drum roll please, Dave finished the deck. After my dear husband surveyed the house he announced that I need a labour scare on a regular basis.

Nevertheless, now that the house is so spic and span I feel a strong desire to post a No Trespassing sign on the door so as to stave off any further need to tidy house.

But the labour scare came to nothing and baby is still dwelling in-utero.
The good news is that my doctor confirmed that the littlest one is head down and looking up so we need not worry about positioning. And, that's all. We're still waiting for our camera battery in the mail. Once it is here the baby has full permission to arrive. Or so I think ... the best laid plans of mice and men.

Two weeks to go

Two weeks to go: I feel as if the official countdown can really start now. After all, the twins were born at 38 weeks, 1 day; however, their birth was more than a little contrived as it was induced at 37 weeks, 6 days. They took 2 full days to emerge and Holy Week of 2003 is forever seared into my memory. Benjamin arrived four days early and Joseph came four days late so I really have no idea when to expect this little one. Except, I guess, sometime before Sept. 3rd. Dave told me this morning if I can hold off until Sept. 1st (his first staff meeting of the year) he will be allowed to take 3 days off from work. I think I'll let him go to work.

Meanwhile, as we wait, we are still in busy mode. The summer is always a time of to-do lists as Dave has a large chunk of free time off in which he can switch from teacher mode to handy-man mode. Consequently, he and a wonderfully generous friend have built a beautiful deck together. (I will post pictures soon.) The railings have yet to be completed but we have already enjoyed many a meal alfresco. And eating alfresco means little to no post-meal clean up which is fabulous for a 38-week pregnant mother. (Have I ever mentioned that I have considered changing the blog name to Sweeping Upstream?)

The three oldest are finishing up their last week of swimming lessons and I am amazed to see our two oldest beginning to master front crawl. Benjamin has also made tremendous advances in the water as he started quite fearful but is now a proficient 'bobber' and user of the flutter board.

We have one more household project that remains. The front room (currently used as a toy room) is in the midst of conversion to a bedroom. The double doors have arrived and Dave will install them sometime in the next week. Thus, we will have successfully created four bedrooms on the main level so that no one need sleep downstairs.

The womb dweller is also doing well: still quite active despite limited space. However, I am a little suspicious about his positioning as his limbs seem to be inconsistent with a head-down position. I have a doctor's appointment on Thursday so we should know a little bit more in a few days time.

Dave is in fine form and starting to swing back into school gear. This means a re-organisation of his desk, storage and textbooks. He still has almost four weeks until the official start of the academic year but August always feels like a downward slope toward buses and bells. We constantly remind ourselves that we should be extremely grateful for the huge span of time he has for vacation in the summer. Jacob is dreading the return to the classroom and Hannah is typically nonchalant, "I don't really want to go, Mom. But I guess I have to learn somehow."

And, I am feeling large and envious of non-maternity clothes. For the most part I feel well but find myself quite weak if I have to stand for any extended period of time. I am fine if I keep moving but standing still is extremely exhausting (the checkout at the grocery store is particularly trying).

I am looking forward to meeting our newest child but I am trying not to remember the pain of a drug-free labour and delivery. I am also fighting the urge to picture the worst-case scenarios. I deliver at a hospital that has an anaesthesiologist on staff during the day on Mondays and Tuesdays. Thus, if an emergency c-section is required during any other time, the labouring mother is placed in an ambulance or medivac. The thought of either makes me ill.

And ill is what I feel as first trimester nausea has returned. I wondered about googling "Nausea as impending sign of birth", but decided that anything at 38 weeks is an impending sign of birth.

So, there you go: a 38-week update. Keep up the prayers and we will let you know as soon as we have any news. Also, I will keep the blog public for another week or so and will then switch the privacy settings. I will post instructions as soon as I change the settings and will include all of you who have contacted me thus far or in the week to come. Take care. Ta ta.

Why I do what I do: a half-decent explanation

"Swimming upstream can be very tiring." (Me, today)

About a year ago someone I know told me and a room full of people that he believed the meaning of life to be the quantity and quality of one's leisure time. I was flabbergasted, to say the least. I also wanted to say, "What a load of crock!", but I knew that my husband might not appreciate such a wifely outburst. (Yes, I am prone to outbursts, feet planted firmly in my mouth and regular apologies to those near and dear. I am about as far from angelic sweetness as George W. is from Mr. Obama. This distance is only lengthened by the end of a pregnancy.)

But back to the meaning of life. At the time of the above statement I really was at a loss for words and, fortunately, I was able to see that words would have been lost on this person anyway. Especially mine.

After all, I don't think that my life appeals to him in the slightest. It is certainly not about leisure - neither quantitatively or qualitatively. Relatively speaking (and I have one eye on the squalidly poor who literally break their backs just to survive), this life of little children with very real needs of the physical, emotional and spiritual sort is a heck of a lot of hard work.

Days are long, nights are sometimes longer and I experience exhaustion at pretty even intervals throughout the day. Do I sometimes feel like throwing in the proverbial towel?

What do you think?

I was particularly frustrated yesterday after spending the morning at the park watching very affluent families with very minimal children doing their vacation thing. Now don't get me wrong, I wasn't frustrated so much with their near childlessness or their need to accommodate such childlessness in the van of my dreams. No, I was more upset with my inability to lucidly and convincingly express why I have chosen this life with four little ones and a fifth on the way. (Not to mention an aging Grand Caravan.)

Because, mark my words, I chose it. And, moreover, I don't regret it in the slightest. I am not lying or sugar-coating when I say that I have no desire to be back at work or that I don't feel that my talents are wasted here at home. I have purpose and that conquers all exhaustion and frustration. (A good laugh or cry also help.)

As Jen from Conversion Diary so eloquently wrote:

"When I heard the Catholic notion that each of us has a vocation, and that it's not about what you'll do as whom you'll serve, it sounded outrageous. Insane even. In this worldview, living for yourself is not a valid option -- regularly taking time for yourself, yes; but structuring your life around selfish pursuits, no. It went against everything I believed. It seemed to even go against common sense."

As Jen said, I can still pursue times of relaxation and leisure. I daily take time for exercise sans children, I maintain an afternoon quiet time in which I rest and pray and the children know that these things are necessary for mommy. Dave and I try to get out on dates and he works really hard at lessening my load here at home. I also read, write, blog, watch meaningless television and enjoy good conversation with equally tired but purposeful friends.

But, I hope that the overarching purpose of my life is one of service: a life seemingly thrown away for the good of others. In my third year of university I had a history professor who scoffed at Mother Theresa: "What sort of a life is that? One thrown away in the streets!" His own words stand in judgement of their speaker. I hope that my life does not stand in judgement of me. In fact, I take great solace in the words of my spiritual director, a very wise Madonna House priest: Pour yourself into this family of yours - they are the ends of the earth.

Now, am I always successful? No. Am I even always faithful? Certainly not. But I keep trying. And, as my husband continually reminds me, the Christian life is about falling down and getting back up.

My life is one of trying to live out a vocation to marriage and family - a calling to pour myself out for my husband and children. It sounds like foolishness and it probably looks that way as well. But, I don't resent it. I have a husband who does the same and we hope that our children will one day choose a path of self-sacrifice rather than one of self-service. I pray that we don't raise children who feel that they are entitled to the good life. I pray that we impress upon them that one can seek times of leisure but that one's life must not be centred around the selfish pursuit of leisure. I pray that they too, one day, feel exhausted but fulfilled because they are living their lives against the current.

It certainly ain't perfect but this life is filled with purpose and meaning and, strangely, a deep sort of peace.

Pie Squared

This one is not for the compost pile. Dave told me to take a picture of this pie as it has taken only eight years of marriage to produce such a gastronomical miracle. Fortunately, my father is visiting (on his way through to the field where he will canoe, look at rocks and live in the wilds with two undergrads and one masters student); so, we were able to use his camera as our battery is still defunct and my efforts to buy one in town have proved futile. Grandpa Nick took all the pictures and, judging by the favourable outcome of my portrait, I have decided that all pictures of myself from now on will be taken from an overhead perch. As Hannah said, "It's like a secret code, Mom. You don't even look pregnant anymore." Or, as she really likes to say, "It doesn't even look like there's a bun in your oven!" But, there is a pie on top of it. And I am more than chuffed that I am behind both the pastry and the filling. To top it off, miracle of miracles, the pie tasted quite good and was eaten in one sitting. Let's see how long it takes me to make another one.I chose to frame myself in pie as I can't seem to delete the second photo. There's bound to be some irony in this but my mind is too muddled to think clearly. Happy August: the countdown is really on now.